Remember This Summer
by AjHanover
Summary: America, 1989. New York City, to be exact. That's where Blaine is going. He has no intention of ever returning to Ohio. This is his last chance- For himself, his music... his life. Blaine knows he's going to die a young man, the doctor made sure of that. The only question is when...
1. Prologue: My Name Is

**Prologue: My Name Is**

**WARNINGS: This fic will include mentions of underage drinking, drugs, and smoking. It may contain mentions of past self-harm and thoughts of suicide. There will be mild violence, minor coarse language, and some MxM, MxG and GxG sensuality. IF THERE ARE TRIGGERS IN A CHAPTER, I WILL WARN YOU AT THE START OF THE CHAPTER.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Glee related. Maybe someday… Any resemblance to real-life people or events or to another fic is completely coincidental and not my intention. **

**(A/N: This is my first fanfiction. I'm just warning you now. At times, especially in the beginning, this may seem a little like a Blaine/Quinn pairing. It's not, though. The pairings in this fic will be strictly Klaine and Quick, with hints of Niff, Wevid (Romance or Bromance yet to be determined) and some Brittana. This is a fairly AU story, and I will introduce a few OC's with little relevance to the story. Thanks for giving me a chance. I lessthanthree you all ****. Without further ado, here is Remember This Summer.)**

**Prologue: My Name Is**

It was hot. The air on the bus to New York City was stifling, but there was no place Blaine would rather be. He certainly didn't want to be at home, with his prying, concerned friends, however much they really did mean to him… or with his mentally unstable mother, and his ass of a father. But, then again, he supposed that even there was better than the military school his father wanted to send him to this fall. Everyone expected something of Blaine. His friends expected a leader, an artist, a genius. His insane mother expected his care since he was twelve, a time when she should take care of him, not the other way around. Then there was his father. He expected nothing less than the Anderson perfection: A military genius with a successful law firm and the 'perfect image' to boot. Blaine shuddered at the thought of his father. How could he even consider military school? War was wrong; the control that America held over the rest of the world an unnecessary abuse of power. And why should they even care where he went to school? Blaine knew he was going to die young. He had HIV, he couldn't fight it for long, could he? But his father insisted, it didn't matter that Blaine was sick, it only mattered how he acted for his father's image. And what did that say about his father's love for him? It didn't exist. But no one else knew. No one knew that he was going to die before he even had a chance to live. Blaine hummed tunelessly as he ran his mind through the same old tracks of the past month, and glanced about, hoping that he hadn't disturbed anyone nearby. Nope. No one even looked up. He sighed and shifted in his seat to gaze at the land passing outside his window. It seemed the trees, towns, and fields stretched on seamlessly and forever, unchanging under the hot June sun.

So he was surprised to say the least when he felt a weight land softly on the seat next to him. He reluctantly tore his eyes from the window and turned to examine his new companion. She was looking straight at him, her eyes a disconcerting shade of green, wise and soft and alive. He fidgeted slightly. What should he say? She was the one that wanted to talk to him, right? That had to be why she sat down. Perhaps. Or… not. Maybe he should say hello, or introduce himself. He felt so rude, just sitting there- should he shake her hand? Or just-

"My name is Quinn Fabray," the girl, Quinn, said, her low, soothing voice gently cutting through his frazzled thoughts. "My friends and I thought you looked lonely, so… here I am." It was almost funny, it seemed like she was sincerely interested in his welfare. This was new, especially since usually the only reason people made any effort to talk to him was for their own benefit, to get an 'in' with the great General Anderson.

"I'm Blaine," he replied a slight smile threatening to make an appearance. He kept a straight face with some effort. He couldn't be too careful, even if not everyone was like the stuck-up citizens of Westerville. This Quinn was a pretty girl. Slender, with a heart-shaped face, rosebud lips and high cheekbones. Her shimmering blond hair was cut in soft layers that fell just to her collarbone, straight and fine. She reminded him of the pixies that his mother had so adored, before the madness… no, he couldn't think about that right now. "Who are your friends? I saw you when you got on the bus, the same stop as me."

"Oh, I came with those two," she said, waving her hand carelessly towards the back of the bus. A boy with slightly spikey blond hair and a darker toned girl waved back, the boy grinning, the girl's expression unreadable. "The boy is Jeff and the girl is Santana. They're pretty cool."

"How do you know them? You all look about my age," Blaine asked curiously. Something about the blond boy looked familiar.

"Well, Santana and I grew up together," Quinn said simply "and we sort of collected Jeff when he transferred to Lima out of Dalton Academy three years ago ."

"Wait," Blaine said. "Is Jeff's last name Sterling? "

"Yeah," Quinn replied warily. "How did you know that?"

"I used to go to school with him," Blaine replied quietly. "He was in my year. I- Nick- we all thought we'd never see him again."

"Oh," Quinn said, her face softening, "You're _that_ Blaine, aren't you? Blaine Anderson…" her voice trailed off. "Jeff has told us so much about you." Her voice was almost pitying now.

"I don't want your pity," Blaine snapped.

"Of course," Quinn murmured. "We all have issues, but we trust each other. I guess we all just want to make a difference."

"Yeah. I get it," Blaine muttered. He definitely understood issues.

"So, why are you here then? Just a rebel phase, or are you a pacifist, or maybe just wanted to escape from home-"

That struck a nerve in Blaine. "I'd rather not talk about it," he hissed icily, through clenched teeth. "It's personal." Who was this girl, thinking she could know everything about his life?

"Well, it's alright then," Quinn seemed unphased by his change in demeanor from the boy introduced herself to the prickly young man she know sat with. "Okay. Anyway, we're here."

"What?" Blaine turned to the window, staring in disbelief as they rapidly approached the city. Suddenly, everything seemed much more real. "I thought we had more time left," he said, continuing to stare out the window, but not really seeing anything at all. They sat in tense silence for a minute.

"You should get off the bus with us," Quinn said suddenly. "You shouldn't be alone."

He stared at her, hesitating. She looked at him expectantly as the bus slid to a stop. The speaker crackled loudly overhead, but the words were unintelligible. He had to say something, just, what? If he said no, he would push away his only friend, and probably never have a chance to talk to Jeff. But if he said yes, who knew what he would be getting himself into?

"Ok," Blaine heard himself say as if from far away, his mouth moving on its own. _No!_ His mind screamed. _I came here to be __alone!_ But there was nothing he could do now. The words had been spoken, the decision was made. He was getting of this bus with Quinn and Jeff and Santana whether he liked it or not.


	2. Chapter 1: Even If You're Wrong

**Chapter 1: Even If You're Wrong **

**WARNINGS: Nothing much in this chapter, dear readers. A few swearwords, some good old bromance. Pretty much fluff, which is weird for this story. IF THERE ARE TRIGGERS IN A CHAPTER, I WILL WARN YOU AT THE START OF THE CHAPTER.**

**DISCLAIMER: Still don't own Glee. Hmm, maybe for my birthday... But yeah, I don't own anything here. Sadly. :(**

**(A.N: First real chapter! YAY! Alright, the updates for this fic with probably be about a week apart now that I'm back, with more during a good time. I honestly expected no one to read this, but it's already had more than 50 hits and I got a review. Wow. I feel loved :) So expect chapter two by next Friday, I think. Unless I update sooner, in which case, Christmas came early! I'll stop my rambling now. Read and review please!)**

Even If You're Wrong

"Great!" Quinn jumped up, flashing a broad smile. Her white dress fluttered about her as she practically skipped to the back of the bus. All in a flash she was beside him again, dragging his old friend Jeff alongside herself and Santana. Quinn was shorter than he Blaine had originally thought. The two girls were only about 5'3" or so. Jeff on the other hand- he was quite literally a giant. He had shot up in the past few years, and was at least 6'2", a good six or seven inches taller than Blaine, but still somehow had the body of the dancer he had been, lithe and strong.

Everything felt like a dream to Blaine as he exited the bus, with nothing but his bag and his guitar. It didn't seem quite real yet, he could hardly believe that he was actually in New York, here to write his last song, and just maybe make a difference in the world. After all, that was hardly why Quinn, Jeff and Santana were here, right? Bitterness rose up in Blaine as he noted the simplicity and security of their lives. They weren't here, alone, getting ready to leave the world. How much longer did he have? A few months? A year? At most maybe two years. How fitting, then, that the broken boy was sure to die before he even turned twenty. He stepped into the breeze, blinking at the sudden brightness, the sun shaking him out of the morbidity of his own head. Blaine heard the engine start, then speed the bus away. Suddenly, he didn't know how he really felt at all.

"Well, when is the newbie gonna say who he is? I hope he didn't hurt you, Quinn. He'd regret it," Santana said, her voice harsh, carrying a strong accent. "Should I get rid of him? Scare him like the others?"

"Oh, hush," Quinn admonished her friend. "You did the exact same to Jeff, and he wouldn't talk for days!"

"At least he learned fast," Santana growled. "They should all be scared of me." Blaine couldn't help but think that the last part of her statement sounded more sad then threatening. "We all know what I could do to them, even by accident…"

"Oh 'Tana," Quinn sighed. "It never lets go of you, does it?" She reached out to her friend, gently brushing her hair off her face. Santana just stood there, stock-still.

A sudden realization hit Blaine. He and Santana- they were the same. He pushed aside his anger towards the Latina and held out his hand. "I'm Blaine. It's nice to meet you, Santana. I hope we can talk soon. I think we may have more in common than you think." He lowered his voice during the last sentence, but by the look on Quinn's face, it was obvious she had heard. Santana shook his hand dubiously, not sure if he was actually being serious. "You certainly are something else, aren't you?" her voice had changed. The accent was less distinct, the voice softer. It sounded like a different person. "We'll see about you," she smirked, cocking her head.

A male's warm laugh rang behind him, clear like a bell. Blaine released Santana's hand and turned toward the sound. Jeff sprang towards Blaine, his smile wide and nearly blinding. "Blaine!" he exclaimed joyfully, his strong arms wrapping tightly around Blaine in one of his familiar bear hugs. Blaine nearly froze in shock. People rarely touched him these days, most of them scared that he would get them sick, too, no matter how many times he explained that HIV didn't actually work like that. He only had about four people in his life that didn't care. Wes, David, Nick, and apparently now Jeff. Then again, Jeff didn't know about him yet. "How have you been? I miss you all more than you could think! Is Nick alright? Does Wes still have his gavel?"

"Mediocre, yes, and, oddly enough now that I think of it, yes." Blaine replied, a shadow of a grin twisting his dark features as he added, "And David still hasn't made a move."

Jeff gasped effeminately. "He _still_ thinks he's straight? Don't tell me he has that girl Tami or whatever her name was still hanging about!"

"Mia," Blaine corrected gently. "And no, he dumped her about a year ago after she tried to get rid of Wes. David wasn't very happy about that."

"Oh, I wish I'd been there," Jeff's eyes lit up, no doubt thinking of the things he and Nick could have done to traumatize the bitch.

"Well," Blaine said, "Not to excite you too much, but…"

"But what?" Jeff interrupted, his steely eyes narrowing slightly.

"," Blaine rushed out.

Jeff's jaw dropped. "Nick's coming?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Blaine said, worried. "Is that not a good thing?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jeff cried. "That's the best thing I've heard in years! He was my best friend," He said more quietly. "My _best_ friend. Do you know what that means to me?"

"Yeah," Blaine said. "It just sounded like you were a little freaked out, that's all."

"Not that this reunion isn't so touching," Santana interrupted, "But Blaine, where the hell were you planning on staying?"

Blaine immediately felt his walls spring back up. "I've got some money, and my guitar…" he trailed off, unsure how to continue. He needed be in control. It was absolutely vital.

"You're coming with us," Quinn said firmly. "I won't leave someone on the streets. We've got a flat in a complex on the backstreets. We have plenty of room for one more." She directed the last statement at Santana, who looked like she might protest. Surprisingly, the fierce Latina gave in and shut her mouth.

"Are you sure? That's very generous" Blaine said, a shy tone coloring his voice, a small smile playing on his lips. _That's right, charm her. She'll be a good friend to keep around. She's almost too nice. Play it nice, Blaine. You don't want to hurt her, or the others._

"I'm sure," Quinn answered, moving to brush a stray curl out of his face, her fingers soft and cool, contrasting her warm smile.

"Lucy, can we go?" Santana sighed, fingering the strap of her bag tensely. Jeff shuffled his feet next to her, looking slightly uncomfortable at the attention Quinn was paying Blaine.

"Yeah," Quinn said, pulling away from Blaine and turning to scan the streets. She stopped, looked back at them, and then announced, "Okay. We're going this way. It's about a fifteen minute walk, I think." She started down the street, her hair floating around her head like an angel's halo. And to Blaine, that was exactly what Lucy Q. was. An angel.

"Are you lot coming?" She called over her shoulder. "I don't want you to get lost, and I think I actually do know where I'm going."

"Of course," Blaine replied. "Even if you're wrong, you are all I have now." And he meant it.

**(A.N. Well, here we are! The end of chapter one! A few points to clarify: Yes, Santana is HIV positive. No, she is not the last character to be positive. Sorry, I love her too, but it's important to the story. Jeff is really excited to see Blaine, just shocked that he will see Nick. He and Blaine were very close friends. He does NOT know that Blaine is HIV positive. That all happened after he left. Yes, Blaine really does admire Quinn, but it has its place. Klaine is still in this fic, folks. Kurt is introduced soon, and Blaine's Dalton friends are too. If there are still any questions, feel free to message me. I'll try to answer your questions as honestly as I can. Well, now, let me know what you think! See that little button that says REVIEW? Click it. Every time you do, Klaine gets another Kliss! (Without FOX censoring it ;) hehehehehe!)**


	3. Chapter 2: There Is No God

Chapter 2: There Is No God

WARNINGS: Just a few more in this chapter. There's a bit of minor swearing, derogatory names, implied and live repetitive domestic violence and mentions of underage smoking. The biggest is atheistic views and disregard for religion by some of the characters because of the sensitivity of the topic. If that stuff offends any of you guys, sorry. IF THERE ARE ANY TRIGGERS I WILL WARN YOU AT THE START OF THE CHAPTER.

(A.N. Wow! The reaction to this story has blown me away, guys. I never honestly expected anyone to read it, so the fact that well over 150 people have actually read it is amazing to me. I'm sorry this is so late, but there was a big issue in my immediate family, which took up some time, and then the length of this chapter really ran away from me. So here we go, chapter two, two weeks late. Just so you all know, this story will be completed eventually. I don't just abandon projects; it bugs me so much when people do that. However, right now this is more of a side activity, so the weekly updates I promised in the last chapter probably won't happen until the fall. (I know, I'm sad too…) I won't babble on, just know I'm grateful for anybody who's still here! Read on :) Thank you so much, guys!)

There Is No God

New York City. It wasn't at all what Blaine had expected it to be. He was almost expecting something perfect, beautiful, and safe. Somewhere he could be at peace. Oh, but he was wrong, he could see that now. It was a completely different city from the one he saw in his mind, the clear streets cluttered, the shining skyscrapers now dull and crumbling. Still, he couldn't help but feel that this city was exactly what he needed right now, because it _wasn't Ohio_. No, it was all such a long way from here.

But even so, he was on edge as Quinn led the way through narrow side streets, past the filth and ruin as if it wasn't even there. He flinched when the sound of raised voices flew out of one small flat, the male voice threatening, the female's defensive and wavering slightly. Through an open window he saw a young man poised to strike a petite middle aged woman, and he couldn't help but call out. "Hey!" he said loudly, striding forward. "No!" Santana whispered, grabbing for Blaine's arm and missing. The man in the window turned to look at him, eyes narrowing

"What the hell do you want?" the man growled. "This ain't none of your business, fairy."

"Mark," the woman said, her voice trembling, "I'm sure he didn't-"

"Shut up!" the man, Mark roared. He turned accusingly to the woman, his voice dropping lower, the words even more noticeably slurred. "This is all your fault."

"Son, you're drunk. Close the window. I don't want you to hurt him." The woman was shaking slightly, but her tone was firm.

"HIM? You should be worried about yourself! Not some damn boy, Ma! DON"T YOU DARE TRY ME! None of this is your business, do you hear?" She jumped when he began shouting again, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Mark, baby, please listen-" He hit her sharply across the face.

"No!" Blaine and Quinn cried simultaneously. Quinn turned into Santana and buried her face in her shoulder. He tried to reach the window, but Jeff grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from the window and pushing him further down the street, towards where Quinn and Santana had begun to walk towards, refusing to look back, heads stiffly facing forwards.

As he looked over his shoulder, the older woman stumbled back, holding her left cheek gently with both hands. Her dark hair tumbled down her back in thick waves, framing her face and highlighting startlingly blue eyes, _his mother's eyes,_ "Honey, _please,_ calm down-" her voice was cut off with a slight hiccup that broke Blaine's heart in two. He couldn't look anymore.

The sound of another slap hit Blaine's ears. Dear God, he felt like he was choking, drowning… The man was shouting again, his words incomprehensible. Blaine felt a sting of tears in his eyes as Jeff hurried him along beside Quinn and Santana, the girls eerily quiet. It was all just too familiar, the scene Blaine had just witnessed. Why could he never stop it? She had looked so much like his mother. His breath caught in his throat. What if that was what was going on at home, right now, and his mother had no one to defend her. All because Blaine had left her. What would she think of her youngest son now? Would she still love him, even though he abandoned her? It just hurt too much to even _think_ right now. God, this was the last thing he wanted to see. He closed his eyes and let Jeff guide him, scared to let the tears fall, and ashamed to even want to look on the world as if what he had just seen hadn't affected him so strongly.

Their pace began to slow as the house was left far behind them, the man's shouts faded into the afternoon sun. Blaine opened his eyes at last, finding them nearly dry. He cleared his throat and let go of Jeff's arm. He wished they could just find the flat Quinn had promised so long ago, or was it really just twenty minutes…? Blaine shook his head; time wasn't running right anymore, or so it seemed.

They passed by a massive array of different aspects of New York life; little shops, apartment complexes, night clubs, coffee shops, all interspersed with _people_. So very many people, all milling about, attending whatever business they had. But even though Blaine saw everything, noted locations and names and streets and sights, he didn't see it at all. His friends said nothing as Quinn silently guided them on. He was thankful no one asked him if he was alright, he couldn't trust himself to talk without collapsing into sobs right now. So he continued on down the road, grasping Quinn's hand, the golden, sweet angel his only anchor to earth, as he was still seeing the earth but not really seeing anything at all. He held her hand even more tightly, and she squeezed back without hesitation. And still, all he could _really_ see was the man's hand striking the woman who looked so like his beautiful mother…

"We're here," Quinn's soft voice announced. It was the first words any of them had spoken since they had left that awful man's house. They had stopped in front of three similar buildings at the end of a dead-end road. The buildings were arranged in an alcove shape, surrounding a small green with large tree a few large trees in the middle. "It's the one on the left," she added. Blaine dropped her hand, eager to see more of his new home.

The building, like everything else, was nothing like what Blaine had expected. It was shorter, about eleven stories, and fronted by reddish brown bricks. Escape stairs criss-crossed the front of the building like spider webs, the black metal glittering slightly in the sun. It looked like any other complex Blaine had seen in Ohio. But most shocking of all were the people. The diversity of the people outside the buildings was astounding. A group of boys was seated under a tree, a football being tossed lazily about the circle; a group of jazz musicians played a slow number to the left of the big tree in the center; two girls were lying on their stomachs together on the grass in the shade of the big tree, book being passed between them; an old man sat on the front steps of the center building, smoking; and finally, a boy who appeared Blaine's age sat in the top of the big tree with a long-haired blonde girl, chatting animatedly, a cigarette dangling from his fingers that he would occasionally, languidly, pass to the girl. The scene was such a distinct contrast to the previous sights that Blaine questioned the reality of it all for a moment.

"Wow," Jeff said at last. "Damn, Q. Not at all what I was expecting, especially after all that shit earlier."

"No, it's not," Quinn said after a short pause, smiling wryly. "But then again, we got here on a good day."

"A good day?" Santana questioned, her voice increasing slightly in volume. "What exactly do you mean by that, Lucy?"

"Well," Quinn began, motioning for them to follow her around the green to the left building, "My cousin Brittany lives here, and apparently, the landlord is coming tomorrow night."

"And let me guess," Blaine interjected, "He's not exactly popular with the tenants, is he."

Santana snorted. "No, he's a fucking prince. They all love him here."

"Really?" Jeff chimed in, as oblivious as ever.

"'Tana, don't," Quinn sighed. "No, Jeff. He's not a very nice person at all. Don't go try to hug him or something, ok? That would be the last thing you'd probably ever do, get it?"

"But Santana said he was nice!"

"No I didn't you idiot! It's called _sarcasm!"_

Blaine held the tall greenish doors open for the others as the argument erupted, not even noticing that he dropped his guitar pick on the stairs. As the door closed behind him, the boy and girl in the tree jumped to the ground and began making their way towards the door. He followed Santana up the stairs as she continued to squabble with Jeff, Quinn silently leading the way up. They stopped about three floors up in front of a gray sliding door. Quinn twisted a handle and pushed the door to the side, gesturing for the others to enter first.

"Merry Christmas," she said flatly over the sound of Jeff and Santana's fight. "Welcome home, kids." The sarcasm in her voice was clearly evident alongside her love for her friends as she met Blaine's gaze with a slight smirk. "Get used to this," she directed at him. "They're pretty much always like this."

"Wow," Blaine says. "Really? I mean, he wasn't this bad at Dalton…" his voice trailed off as he paused, unsure how to continue.

"I expected so," Quinn sighed, "But he and Santana are simply amazing at getting on each other's nerves."

"I see," Blaine said, clearing his throat and glancing towards the pair. They were practically spitting in the other's faces now, with less than a foot of distance between them. Santana was gesturing violently and mixing Spanish with her English in anger, a few choice insults including _tu eres un pendejo, _and _Neta, no se si eres pendejo de nacimiento o te golpeaste con un tubo en la cabezota,_ while Jeff shrieked random phrases about innocence and virtue, and how his were being gradually destroyed by the one and only Santana effing Lopez.

"Now, listen about earlier-"

Quinn cut over him, "Nothing about earlier, Blaine. I don't want you to feel pressured to talk about it if you don't want to."

Blaine sighed in relief. "You have no idea how much that means, Q. Thank you."

"Anytime," she said, her smile warm and open. "Now, maybe we should get these two to break it up for a while. You know, get their things squared away." She marched up to the two bickering teens and wormed her way between them, one hand on Santana's cheek, the other on Jeff's chest. "Guys, break it up for a minute. Get your things, pick a space, and please, please don't kill each other in the process." She looked slowly from one to the other, making eye contact to make sure that the message sank in.

"Ok," Jeff was the first to back away, Santana stepping back a heartbeat later, huffing with her arms crossed in front of her body. "Sorry, Quinn." His radiant smile was back again, returning his features to an expression of childish glee. He looked pointedly at Santana until she, too, grumbled out an apology. Blaine tried to disguise his laughter at her expression, which resembled that of someone who had just smelled something particularly disgusting. He didn't succeed, and Santana turned her death glare away from Jeff to look at him. He squeaked slightly at her expression, trying to back away, and only succeeding at tripping backwards over a rug. Quinn started to giggle, and loudly at that. Jeff joined in an instant later, and Santana shortly after, too, succumbed to laughter. Blaine felt his face turn red from where he now sat on the floor. "Oh, shut it," he growled good-naturedly at the three as he eased himself awkwardly up from the floor.

"Oh, Blaine," she stumbled out between bouts of laughter, "If only you could have seen your face!"

Over the next few hours, they began to settle into the flat, turning it into a home. They each chose a room, the girls opting to share, while the boys each had their own bedroom. The walls of the flat were either finished with a reddish brick, similar to the outside of the building, as was in the main room, or with a dark gray concrete, as was in the kitchen, bedrooms, and bathroom. They didn't have much furniture, just a coffee table, an armchair, a sofa, and a six-chair table set that Quinn had brought in about an hour earlier from a storage center nearby. They each had a basic bed in their room, along with a dresser, a small chair and a tiny desk. When Blaine asked Quinn how she had furniture for him, she told him that she had it all for the guest room anyway, at least now someone would be using it. He honestly wondered where the girl got the money for all of this from, but realized before he asked that it was a really personal question, so he didn't ask. It was insane, Quinn wouldn't hear even a word of him wanting to pay his rent, claiming that she had it covered, and he needn't worry about it.

He worried anyway. He didn't want to be someone's charity project, however nice it may feel to have someone care for him so completely for once, in a way his father never did and his mother never could. He just wanted to be their friend, not some puppy they'd picked up on the street. And friends did right by each other. And if that meant paying rent, he should do it. And that meant he would need a job. Like, a real job. Right? _God, my head hurts. I wonder if Q. has any painkillers?_

Blaine carefully set down the guitar he had been strumming absently. _Well, now I need clothes and a new pick. Great. _He walked out the door, turning left. Quinn and Santana shared the room at the end of the hall, and Jeff's room was opposite his. Jeff had left about fifteen minutes ago to get some pizza from a spot he remembered from earlier down the street. He knocked on the doorframe three times the first longer, and the last two in rapid succession. Santana's voice called out almost immediately. "Come on in, hobbit. Is Jeff back?"

Opening the door and stepping into the girls' bedroom, Blaine replied softly, "No, not yet. I was just wondering, do you guys have anything for a headache?"

"I don't, but Lucy might," Santana answered thoughtfully from her spot on the floor at the base of the bed on the right. "Stay here, Anderson." And with that she left the room, opening the bathroom door quickly, stepping through and closing it just as fast. The squeak of the hinges made Blaine's head ring, even though he was almost certain that if he didn't have a headache, he wouldn't even have noticed the sound. Glancing around the room, he sat cautiously on the end of the bed on the left, the pale yellow quilt rustling softly.

The girls had done a nice job with the room, Blaine noticed. The bed on the right had a bright red set of sheets, and he could almost guarantee that it belonged to Santana. The bed he sat on was firm, and the pale yellow quilt was embroidered with small blue flowers. It just seemed so very… _Quinn_. There was a sea-colored rug on the floor, and the rest of the furniture was an off-white color, just like in his room. The small window was open, and curtains the same color as the rug were hung around it. There was a book on Quinn's bed, called The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler. God, that title fit only too well. He'd only to come here, to New York, rather than San Francisco, the morning he got on that bus. Be that as it may, he couldn't see his life without them now.

"Hey." Quinn's voice gently interrupted his thoughts. "I've only got a few pills. You can have them, but could you run down to my cousin's apartment? I need to wait for Jeff to get back, and she'll probably be able to lend us some until I can go to the store."

"Ok. Sure." Blaine said, startled. "Where exactly does she live?"

"Oh, wow, I forgot you didn't know," she laughed breathily, shaking her head slightly. "She's the floor below us, number 3B. Her roommate is probably there too. He plays piano at the Veranda on Seventh Avenue. You, know that's all I really know about him," Quinn added on, "other than that Brittany says he's a unicorn."

"What?" Blaine asked faintly. "A unicorn? What does that even mean?"

"I dunno," Quinn shrugged. "But I'm sure Brit would love to meet you. She loves just about everybody." With that she handed over the two tablets and a glass of water.

"Thanks, Q." Blaine said gratefully, accepting the pills. They slid down his throat in a practiced motion, barely even requiring water. He was due for AZT in about forty minutes, eight o'clock, probably enough time for the painkillers to kick in before he had to take more medicine. "Should I knock, or just go in?"

"Just go in; it should be unlocked, knowing Brittany. She won't mind. Just tell her I sent you down. Oh, and tell her I said hi, and I'll see her tomorrow, ok?"

"I will, Quinn. See you soon."

"Bye, Blaine. I'll make sure Jeff doesn't eat all of the pizza." She smiled broadly, then, shocking Blaine, hugged him tightly around the waist. "Now go on."

Blaine stumbled away, a bemused grin on his face. Someone actually hugged him. _Again._ Two hugs in a day. That had to be a record or something.

_Wow, I'm pathetic. _

Blaine still felt like he should knock. His upbringing insisted on manners at all times, in all situations. He hesitated another moment at the door before finally trying to open the door. To his surprise, it was unlocked just as Quinn said it would be. Really, who the hell leaves their door unlocked in New York City? This girl must be either insane or just far too trusting. Or possibly both.

The door slid open quietly, identical to the door of Blaine's own apartment. The room immediately inside was very homey, a fascinating combination of random childish furnishings and well-thought-out contemporary fashion. It was strange, but not unwelcoming. The rooms seemed arranged identically to his, but looked very different. A pure white carpet and silver wallpaper contrasted sharply with a bright green lamp and pale blue couch with purple pillows. Cheerfully framed pictures of a blonde girl and vast array of others lined the far wall, but the rest of the walls were conspicuously bare. He wondered what kind of person- well, people- lived here. It was obvious Quinn adored Brittany, but what about the roommate? What was he like?

Why did no one even know his name?

A case of pills on the angular black coffee table caught his eye. Oh, yeah, he was here to get medicine from Brittany. Not to snoop on the girl's private life, or that of her roommate.

"Brittany?" Blaine called out hesitantly. It didn't seem like anyone was home. He stepped into the main room and slid the door closed behind him, moving towards the pictures on the wall. He guessed they were all of Brittany, so what could the harm be in looking? He swiftly crossed the room, and soon stood directly in from of the first picture. "Hey, Brittany," he said again, feeling rather silly. "I'm here because your cousin Quinn asked me to get some medicine from you, so, I'm not like, a creeper or anything." When this embarrassing series of statements garnered no response, Blaine set back to looking at the pictures. The girl was pretty and looked very happy and fit, and, judging from the pictures, was very popular among her peers. He had noticed pictures of Brittany with another blonde girl, who looked very much like her cousin, Quinn. They looked extraordinarily close, and it made Blaine wonder why Quinn knew so little about Brittany's life now. The pictures came to an end, the last picture containing a smiling Brittany, who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, and the other blonde girl he now knew to be Quinn. They stood on a sunny beach, all tanned skin, broad smiles and windswept hair. They were beautiful, and so, so, happy.

Happier than Blaine had ever been.

He couldn't look anymore. He tore his eyes from the picture, and they landed on the coffee table. Maybe the pills were what he was looking for.

A sudden chiming echoed in the empty room. _Damn, how long have I been in here?_ Blaine threw a glance at the clock on the wall and saw that nearly forty minutes had passed. _Quinn must be wondering what's taking me so long. _He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he picked up the container of medicine on the table. The case didn't have a label, so he twisted off the cap and set it down on the corner of the table.

He sat softly on the edge of the couch, the spring base creaking slightly under the sudden weight. He tilted the container and gently shook some of the pills into his hand, then froze when he recognized the shape and color. AZT.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. So much for trying not to invade anyone's privacy. He quickly shuffled the pills back into their container and replaced the lid. He then set it down where it had been before he had entered the room, at the center of the table. He leant forward and rested his head in his hands. He felt like he was going crazy. First Santana, now this? He'd never known of anyone with HIV before today other than himself. The fact that not one, but two more people had this god-forsaken disease- no, scratch that. With things like like HIV in existence, how could he, God, exist? It seemed rather obvious to Blaine now; there is no God. He laughed bitterly, the darkness of his thoughts getting the better of him.

"Don't you know better than to touch what isn't yours?"

Blaine's head snapped up at the sharp, feminine, unfamiliar sound. The speaker stood directly in front of him, a distrustful tone in his voice. A _boy_ had spoken, but in a high tone that Blaine had never heard in a male before. It was unusual, but certainly not unattractive. He was about Blaine's height, and slender, with chestnut hair and an almost elfin face and pale skin to match his voice. He was dressed in all black, with the exception of a silver scarf. He was exquisite. But the look on his face was a little unsettling. It flitted between disapproving, amused, defensive, and a little scared For a moment Blaine couldn't speak, the boy was altogether almost too pretty, but sort of terrifying. Then he shook himself, hastily rising from the couch, speaking quickly in failed attempt to hide his discomfort. "I'm sorry, I didn't- I mean, Quinn sent me- no, I'm just, um, here to get some medicine from Brittany." He quickly tacked on, "I'm Blaine, Blaine Anderson. Are you Brittany's roommate?" He offered his hand for the boy to shake.

The boy eyed his hand for a moment before taking it in his own, his skin cool and soft. Blaine started slightly at the touch; he had been almost sure that the boy wasn't going to take his hand. "Kurt Hummel," the boy, _Kurt_ said primly, dropping his hand, "And yes, this is my apartment. If you will give me a straight answer this time, will you tell me why you are in my house? I have half a mind to have you arrested for breaking in."

"No, no," Blaine said hurriedly, "Please don't. Brittany's cousin Quinn Fabray sent me to get some medicine. And the door was unlocked, so I didn't really break in."

"Of course it was unlocked," Kurt muttered angrily. "Brittany needs to stop that. Anyone could just come in whenever they please." At the last statement he glared pointedly at Blaine.

"I said sorry," Blaine tried.

"I know," Kurt replied, giving no indication that he wished to continue the conversation. Now that he had lost his original cause, he looked distinctly uncomfortable and awkward.

"Are they yours?" Blaine blurted suddenly. God, he really should invest in a filter.

Kurt's eyes blazed. "Yes," he hissed, his voice dropping half an octave in anger. "But again, that's _none of your business_."

"No, I wasn't trying to be rude, I just wondered why-"

Kurt cut him off, "You're the one who came in here, who says I can trust you at all-"

"No! You don't understand, I just-"

A sudden beeping shocked them both into silence. Blaine sighed and popped the lid off of the little case he pulled from his pocket. The beeping stopped abruptly as he opened the container. "AZT break," he murmured, popping the pill in his mouth without bothering with water. He swallowed easily, grimacing slightly at the metallic taste he hardly noticed anymore. "I'm exactly the same," he said wryly.

Kurt's eyes widened in horror. "I'm so sorry-"

"Not your fault, though," Blaine interrupted softly. "You still had every right to be angry."

"But you weren't being rude on purpose, or making fun of me," Kurt's voice shook.

"I wasn't," Blaine agreed, nodding his head.

"Well, that's a new one."

"What?" The clock chimed again. Eight fifteen. _Quinn was going to kill him_. But Blaine didn't really care. He needed to know more about this boy. "Do people usually try to hurt you?" _Maybe I don't want to live here…_

"Oh, you have no idea," Kurt muttered darkly. "Have you heard my voice? Have you taken one honest look at me?" Kurt's voice grew steadily louder as he continued. "Of course people try to hurt me; I'm so obviously gay that it's like I run around in a dress, screaming it to the world and throwing glitter everywhere. A lot of the Neanderthals in the world made it their mission to torture me. Every. Single. Day. They told me I'm disgusting, they told me I shouldn't be allowed to live, that I'm worthless…I tried to ignore them, but I just couldn't deal with it, not after my dad died two years ago. So I came here. People don't necessarily like it, but I'm not a pariah anymore. I guess I'm just not used to most people actually being nice to me"*

"I think you're beautiful," Blaine replied truthfully. Kurt looked shocked. _Once again, the great Blaine's foot is lodged in his mouth… Great, now I'm talking about myself in the third person. What the hell is this?_

"You can be serious," Kurt said blankly, eyes wide. "This is insane," he spluttered, "I don't just tell people about my life! I don't even know you."

"Not yet. But I think maybe you will." Blaine smiled at Kurt, noting the little creases at the corners of the boy's eyes when he smiled unsurely back, the little dimples in his cheeks, the way he smiled without showing hardly any of his teeth. He really was beautiful, even if he didn't believe it himself. But Blaine had another question, one that had absolutely nothing to do with either his or Kurt's confidence, or, rather, lack thereof. His head was going to start hurting agan in a few hours, and, well, when that happened, he wanted to be able to do something about it.

Blaine smiled sheepishly at Kurt, "Do you think I could get the medicine I came for?"

"Kurtie!" A girl flung herself through the door and onto Kurt's lap, planting a kiss on his cheek with almost frightening enthusiasm. Blaine looked on, confused. _Wait. Is Kurt straight? But he just said he was gay. Or did he say he_ looks _gay? See, this is why you generally don't socialize with people you don't know, Blaine! For all your father and Dalton tried to teach you, you sure are dense…_ Brittany's voice cut into his thoughts. "Is he a dolphin like you, Kurt?"

"I think so, Britt." Kurt giggled slightly at the girl's exclamation of glee.

"Are you Kurt's unicorn?" Brittany asked Blaine seriously. Blaine sent a confused glance at Kurt. Was this girl for real? "Because he really deserves a unicorn."

"No, Brittany, he's not my unicorn."

"Why not?" Brittany pouted. "He has nice eyes. And people with nice eyes are nice people," she turned to Blaine, and said knowingly, "It's true, Lord Tubbington told me so this morning."

"Ok," Blaine said. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome," she said seriously.

"Hey, Britt," Kurt interrupted, "Could you go find the Tylenol in the bathroom for me? Blaine needs some."

"Your cousin Quinn says hello," Blaine added.

"Hey, Quinnie! Have fun being dolphins together," she called over her shoulder, "I'll be right back, Bee!"

"Wow," Blaine said, staring at the direction Brittany had left in.

"Yeah, she's quite a lot," Kurt agreed. "But I love her. Just about everyone does. Bee," he smirked at Blaine, then stood up, offering a hand to Blaine. He took it. And suddenly, he felt a little less alone.

(A.N: I love Brittany so much. And yay, we met Kurt! I call that progress :) Anyone who catches the Starkid reference gets a cookie, by the way.

*I'm really sorry if anyone found this speech offensive. Kurt has had really bad self-esteem for a while, and we learn why somewhere around chapter six. I know that this sort of thing is a little used, but in this story, Kurt and Blaine have some inward confidence issues, when outwardly, they may seem like a completely different person. So bear with me :)

Moving on. To those of you still with me, I have some bad news. This story is going to be put on temporary hiatus for three weeks starting today, due to the fact that I am going to be in New York for some acting work, so it really won't be possible for me to update until August 23rd or so. I'm sorry about that, but it's unavoidable :(

Another point: Most chapters probably will end up being a little shorter than this, probably around 3500 words or so. Writing chapters of 500 plus words is insane for something like this, for me, anyway. So don't get your hopes up. But, hey, for all I know, every chapter will be three time longer than this one. You never know :)

Finally, thank you all for reading! I hope you all liked this chapter. Angstyangstyangsty ANGST! It's a beautiful thing. For this chapter, anyway. Now that you've read, review please!)


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